I am Kellie Pickler and my sister is drunk.

Our weekend started on a sad note when we took our friend Black Kitty to Animal Control on Thursday. The people who lived here prior to us left her behind when they got orders to Japan (assholes). She would sit at our sliding glass door every morning and evening, waiting for her people to come home. Of course, we knew they weren't coming back for her (assholes). So I fed her for a month and a half and earned her trust. After several botched attempts, I was finally able to stuff her in a carrier Thursday afternoon. I would have loved to have kept her, but a fourth cat is not an option for us right now. Letting her stay outside was not an option, either. My heart broke to turn her in. Even my big strong husband got choked up. I know we did the right thing, but it didn't make it any easier to walk away from her. People who abandon their animals should be shot (assholes).

Friday evening we rented Repo! The Genetic Opera on the PS3. Saturday we both got our hairs did, Jason at the barber shop and me at the mall. Here's me, before and after (and the Kellie Pickler cut I was aiming for):




Hooray. I guess my lipstick rubbed off. The stylist tried to convince me to get some highlights, but all I really need to do to get those is spend some time in the sun. And Jason is totally anti-fake (hair and boobs--too bad, Pickler).

After my haircut we saw a matinee showing of X-Men Origins: Wolverine. I think I liked it more than Jason did. Hugh Jackman and Liev Schreiber, yes please.

We still had the wanderlust when the movie got out, so we went to another, bigger mall so I could buy perfume and a bra at Victoria's Secret. I have been wanting a jasmine perfume since swooning over a tree of it at the Japanese Garden, and I finally found one.

We were then morally obligated to go to Olive Garden for dinner, since it was right across the street. That's where things started to get interesting. I ordered their Italian margarita, which comes with a shot of amaretto liqueur for some reason. Fine by me, I like amaretto. I then proceeded to have the following text conversation* with my sister over the course of dinner, dessert, another margarita+shot, and the ride home:

Her, 6:42 PM: I am drunk

Her, 6:43 PM: Haha

Me, 7:21 PM: I bought vs bra and perfume now we go to olive garden

Her, 7:29 PM: I like food

Her, 7:48 PM: Mango vodka

Me, 7:50 PM: Are you guys at home? (not drinking yet, concerned for her wellbeing)

Me, 7:56 PM: J just said "as long as you don't smell like poop im good"

Her, 8:18 PM: Yes we are home we bought a deep fryer and an ice cream maker we are in love

Her, 8:29 PM: I have hiccups

Me, 8:30 PM: I have margarita

Her, 8:32 PM: We had mango

Her, 8:40 PM: We had mango-ritas last night. Mango sorbet with tequila and mango vodka and lime juice. Tonight we had orange juice and champagne and mango vodka. Called the mango-mosa cocktail. We like to get drunk. I get silly. And easy. Haha.

Her, 8:51 PM: I just did cornholio tp for my bunghole for my mr. Haha. He still loves me!

Me, 9:53 PM: I am

Me, 9:54 PM: Also inebriated

Her, 9:56 PM: Watching x files movie jason is drunk too. We love you! (her fiancé is also named Jason)

Me, 9:58 PM: I am in the car also i just burped

Her, 10 PM: We think you are funny. Also we love your beebeards. (my cats)

Me, 10:05 PM: I dropped a nut down my bra at dinner and i just got it out and jason ate it

Her, 10:08 PM: We are both freaks. It okay.

And this is why the two of us need colossal text messaging plans.

I miss my sissy.

* recreated here with permission